


Time Heals Everything (But These Scars Run Deep)

by YellowRosesAndDragons



Category: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Graduate Student!Michelle Jones, Graduate Student!Peter Parker, Law School!Foggy Nelson, M/M, Matt and Foggy are married, Post-Homecoming!May Parker, Post-Season Two!Matt Murdock, Post-canon!Foggy Nelson, Pre-canon!Ben Parker, Pre-canon!Matt Murdock, Pre-canon!Peter Parker, Time Travel, mild violence, stick is a jerk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2019-10-24 12:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17704601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowRosesAndDragons/pseuds/YellowRosesAndDragons
Summary: Jack Murdock is worried. He woke up in a cell and his son is all alone at home. He doesn’t know where he is, but at least his cellmates, Ben and Peter Parker, are friendly.Foggy Nelson is tired. He’s happy, content with his life, but he thought he was done with this stuff after Matt hung up the suit. And if he dies here, he’s not sure Matt would recover.May Parker is angry. When the old man and little Matty were thrown in here with her, she did everything she could to shield Matt both from the scary situation and the old man’s scathing remarks.Matt Murdock is sad. He and Foggy just got into their biggest fight yet, and after the Frank Castle trial, Matt isn’t sure Foggy would forgive him. And from the looks of this situation, Matt might not have the chance to say he’s sorry.Peter Parker was nervous. He and Michelle had shown up in this place, and he wasn’t sure he could protect her.Foggy Nelson was confused. He had been in his bed when he was abruptly taken to wherever this is. He wasn’t sure what they wanted with him, but the man next to him (who looks like Matt but in five years) keeps grimacing.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!

**Jack**

  
When Jack woke up for the first time in his tiny cell, somewhere between two and three days ago, he was confused and a little bit terrified, and while those feelings had not gone away, they had faded into the background as boredom and irritation took over. He had no idea who had taken him or why, had barely seen his captors but for the few times when a man had been by to deliver food, and Jack, who had always been a man of movement and action, was already tired of the monotony and uncertainty.

The cell was small, just enough space to hold the 3 of them (Jack, his cellmate Ben, a man probably fifteen year Jack’s senior, and his young nephew Peter). The cell was part of a much bigger circular room with a large arena in the middle. The arena was horrifying; dirt covered the floor, and not a single patch of ground was spared the rusty red of blood. Surrounding the arena, there was a section for metal bleachers and eleven cells (Jack counted one day out of boredom), each containing two to five people, a single toilet, and a speaker. He couldn’t see the people in the cells across the arena, just dark figures. It was still and quiet with the exception of muffled sobs and nervous chatter.

When Jack had first arrived, having went to sleep in his bed and woken up here, he didn’t know Ben or Peter, but soon had found them to be pleasant company (at least under the circumstances).

“You alright?” Ben had asked when Jack first awoke. Jack had looked up, and stood next to him was a gentleman with dark brown hair that was graying at the temples and a concerned, kind expression  
.  
Jack sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Just bored out of my fu-freaking mind,” he answered, careful to censor himself once he noticed the little boy peeking around the man, looking at Jack with large, owlish eyes.

The man nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get that. I’ve found that talking with some of the others helps alleviate that a little,” he said, nodding toward the other cells. Jack, having already been of a quiet nature that only increases in environments that he’s not comfortable in, did not find this particularly appealing. Besides, in this kind of environment, no one is really interested in conversation. Well, except for maybe this guy. “Well, that and keeping my nephew entertained,” he finished, nodding in the direction of the cute, brown-haired boy. And keeping his attention away from the kidnapping thing, Jack thought.

“My son is about that age,” Jack said. “He wasn’t taken with us to wherever this is, and well, I’m kinda all he’s got.”

The man nodded kindly. “And now you’re in an unfamiliar place, you are unsure of how you arrived, are surrounded by people you don’t know, and your son is by himself.”

Jack nodded. “And, Matty, my son, well, he’s blind. He’s a good kid, can probably take care of himself better than I could, but...”

“You’re worried about him.”

“Yeah.” A moment of silence, and Jack watched the man’s nephew for a second, thinking on his own kid. While he wished Matt was with him, wished he knew how he was doing, Jack would rather Matt be at home, where at least Jack he knows the dangers, as opposed to here (wherever that is) where Jack knows literally nothing about what’s happening. He looked at the man again, offered him his hand. “I’m Jack.”

The man smiled, friendly, and shakes his hand. “Ben Parker.”

———

Jack and Ben talked a few more times in the following days, watching as more people arrived were thrown, unconscious, into the room. Peter (who Jack found to be adorable, if a bit hyperactive), once he had warmed up to Jack, chatted to him equally of toys and pirates as he did physics and chemistry. “He’s always been interested in STEM, you know, science-y stuff,” Ben explains to him one day. “And after the whole Iron Man thing-“

“Iron Man thing?” Jack asked, confused.

Ben paused, as though evaluating Jack for the first time. “Iron Man. You know, superhero? Flies around in a metal suit? Tony Stark?”

Jack raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t the most invested news reader, but he kept up enough to know that wasn’t right. “Tony Stark? I thought Howard Stark ran Stark Industries...And I’ve not heard of any flying metal men.”

“No, Howard Stark died in...’97? ‘98? Made pretty big news. Car accident, If I remember correctly.” So Ben was clearly insane. Good to know.

“‘97?” Jack asked cautiously. “Ben, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s 1994.”

Ben stared, then stared some more. “Uhh. I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s 2012.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, okay so either one or both of us is insane or something else is happening here,” Ben says, the picture of reason. There’s only so much that can surprise you after aliens come out of a portal in the sky, after all.

Jack nodded. “I suppose we could always ask someone from another cell? I’ll go left you go right.” Ben agreed, and Jack set off to question the other prisoners.

____________

**Foggy**

  
Foggy was tired. Twenty years ago, he would have meant this as less of a I-didn’t-get-much-sleep-last-night tired, and more of a general state of being, but since Matt hung up the suit, Foggy’s never been happier. This is not only true in the sense that he has less to worry about in the way of his friend’s health and well-being, but Nelson, Murdock, and Page was doing well, and Matt and Foggy? Well, they’d never been closer. Foggy was happy, content in a way he didn’t realize was possible. Until, that is, he was taken out of his bed and thrown into a rusty cell.

Foggy thought he was done with this shit, the danger and the stench of blood that clung to his clothes, but apparently not. He was alone two nights ago, Matt having been away on a conference, when men had appeared out of nowhere with a sedative and creepy grins. Foggy had woken up groggy (groggy Foggy, heh. Listen, he was tired, okay), and with bruises. His back and knees were on fire as he was not the sprightly young man he used to be, but all he could think about was Matt. Matt, who has probably already come home from that conference. Matt, who would tear apart the city looking for him. Matt, who would find some way to blame this on himself.

Look, Foggy knew how this ended. He had heard enough stories on the news and from Matt (back when he still when out at night to punch bad guys, you know, like a lunatic) to know that he wasn’t getting out of this one alive. And he was alright with that. No really, he had lived a great life, spent time helping people, loved and been loved deeply, lived in the moment (especially after those years where few months his life was in danger) enough to have great memories with which to look back on while his eyes closed for the last time. But Matt...

Matt would never get over his disappearance. Foggy twisted the ring on his left ring finger. He knew his husband, and Mathew Murdock trusted very few, so when one of those few were left, died, or was otherwise gone from his life, Matt never lets go of that loss. He still winces at the mention of Elektra, still shies away from talking about Stick. And they were never as close to Matt as Foggy is. As a general rule, people only know one side of Matt Murdock: The charming, blind lawyer who stands up for the oppressed, or the brutal, vicious devil with bloody teeth and sad, unfocused eyes. Foggy and Karen were the only ones to know both, to see how the two warring personalities form a beautiful dichotomy. Matt was a bloody mosaic, and almost no one knows it.

So if Foggy disappears, that leaves only one person that truly knows Matt Murdock, and knowing Matt Murdock is a two person job. Foggy sighed, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. “‘Scuse me?” A man said to Foggy’s left, startling him from his thoughts.

“Yes?” Foggy hadn’t talked to anyone on either side of his cell, having been to sick with worry to bother. He was also in his cell alone, something that he was grateful for. It did mean, though, that he hadn’t spoke to anyone in nearly two days.

“This is going to sound kinda strange,” the man said. “But what year is it?”

Foggy tilted his head, curious. “2038, last time I checked.”

“Oh Jeez. I thought there was something going on here. See, for me, it’s 2012, and my, uh, cellmate, for lack of a better word, says it’s 1994.”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Well. That’s... something. Would you believe that’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever heard?”

The man laughs. “Actually, yeah. After the ‘Incident,’ nothing surprised me anymore.”

Foggy nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s fair,” Foggy said as a familiar looking man walked up to stand next to his cellmate.

“So, the guys on the right are convinced Nixon’s still president, so I’m hoping insanity is off the table,” the familiar man noted.

The other man nodded. “Mr...”

Foggy cleared his throat. “Foggy Nelson.”

“Mr. Nelson is from 2038, so I’d have to assume that our kidnappers took us out of our time as well as out of our homes.” He sighs. “One would think we were in a Doctor Who episode. Name’s Ben by the way. Ben Parker,” he says with a weak smile and a hand sticking through the cell bars. Foggy shakes it with a weak smile of his own.

It was then that the other man said something that made Foggy completely freeze.

“I’m Jack Murdock.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May Parker is from just after the end of Homecoming, Stick and Matt are at the end of his training. Enjoy :)

**Jack**

  
“I’m Jack Murdock,” Jack says and Foggy Nelson completely stills. He drops Ben’s hand and stares at Jack with such a look of abject shock that Jack is taken aback with the force of it. “My name mean something to you?” he says after a tense silence, voice harsh.

Nelson started. “I... Matt’s my best friend.”

Jack stared at him, shocked both by his statement and by the mention of his son’s name. He stared back, his fingers fiddling with a ring on his left hand. A nervous habit, Jack thinks. He takes a half-step back, evaluating the other man for the first time. He was in his early fifties, of average height, with slightly floppy hair that was graying and thinning. He wore a dirty business suit, the kind worn by bankers and lawyers. He seemed friendly, but nervous. Shakey. The kind of person Jack normally steered away from, the kind who would like Jack just fine, right up until the moment he let the devil out, as his mother used to say.

Some part of Jack wholly rejected his statement. His son was a blind nine-year-old, and did not have friends that were old enough to be his grandfather. And yet...And yet, nothing about this situation made sense, and even if the time travel theory was to be believed, Nelson didn’t seem like the kind of person Matty would be friends with.

But then Nelson tilted his chin upwards, and steeled his eyes, having realized what Jack was doing. The fiddling stopped and his hands turned hard. He smiled, and it was acidic, sharp in a way that said, “I could tear you apart with a few well-placed words. I’ve done it before, I could do it now.” Jack, who had originally pegged Nelson as a soft, desk work kind of guy, believed that smile. There was a steel there, underneath the friendly exterior, that was not given but earned. He could maybe see the connection, now.

“...Foggy, huh?”

Nelson laughed. “I’ve been told I snore,” he said, sheepishness chasing away all previous acidity.

Jack swallowed. Yeah, he could see how this man could be friends with his son. Or, at least, the half-formed thought about what kind of adult his son would be. “Is he... doing alright?”

Nelson smiled, a genuinely happy one this time. “Yeah, better than ever. He’s an attorney, actually. You’re looking at Nelson of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. He also got married recently, about five years ago,” he said, twisting his ring again.

“Hold on a second,” Ben said. Jack had forgotten about him. “But you’re Jack’s son’s best friend?” Nelson nodded. “Huh. What a coincidence.”

“Yeah, that is a bit strange,” Nelson said, before noticing little Peter curiously looking at him from behind Ben. He smiled, friendly. “What’s your name? My name’s Foggy!”

Peter giggled at this. “Like the weather? My name’s Peter.”

Foggy nodded seriously. “Exactly like the weather-wait hold on did you say your name was Ben Parker? And this is Peter Parker?” He said, eyes wide. Ben nodded, curious, making Nelson sigh. “Well... this may be less of a coincidence than we thought.”

_________

**May**

It had been five days since she had discovered her nephew’s secret. It had been four days since she called up Tony Stark, anger spitting from her mouth like venom. It had been three days since she woke up in this place.

Is this the result of the Spider Man thing? Had someone found out who her nephew was under the mask? The grime under her hands was all-pervasive, the mold of the room clogging up her nose. She was alone at first, but then the old man (who had refused to tell her his name) and Matt were thrown in with her.

The old man had put up a spectacular fight, but May (who was a nurse), could tell that the sedative had severely incapacitated him. He was knocked out just like Matt in minutes.

“Tell me more!” Matt was begging, unseeing eyes wide behind his glasses. The twelve-year-old was starved for affection in a way that broke her heart, but did not surprise her. The old man had alternated between harsh teachings and hard derision, and yet Matt still hung onto his every word. All May did was treat him kindly, smile and ask him questions that didn’t pertain to his blindness or their current situation and he opened up to her, growing attached in a way that made the old man sneer. This was a scary situation, and the old man clearly wasn’t helping Matt get through it, so she stepped up. After Peter, it was almost second nature. She had heard him mention ‘the orphanage’ once before his face twisted, cringing like he expected either pity or mockery, and when she didn’t mention it, the hand that held hers tightened gratefully.

The old man snorted, and Matt looked at the floor, lips tight. May glared at him, and though she knew he couldn’t see it, she somehow knew he felt her anger. She turned towards Matt and set her hand on his shoulder. He relaxed, and she smiled at him. “So, Peter’s mixing these chemicals in his science kit when all of the sudden...”

Later that night, she sat with her back against the wall, Matt’s head in her lap, and for the first time since he and the old man arrived, Matt didn’t have any nightmares. May smiled, and tried not to think about Peter, fifteen-year-old super muscles pulling apart the city looking for her.

_______

 

**Peter**

It had taken them four sedatives to keep Peter knocked out from the time they took him and MJ from their bed to their arrival in the arena. Peter remembered flashes of colorful light and looking over and seeing MJ, beautiful, intelligent, pregnant being dragged along with him.

Peter had been angry before, had felt his blood boil and his hands tighten, but Peter had never, on any occasion, been this absolutely furious. Peter had never wanted to commit murder, but seeing his girlfriend’s hair become dirty as it was dragged across the floor had set a fire in him he’d not experienced before.

He woke up in a cold cell with MJ next to him. “MJ,” he said, gently shaking her shoulder. There was no bed and the floor was cold, but at least they were together.

“Peter?” she asked. Her eyes blinked sluggishly. “Where are we?”

Peter pursed his lips. “I dunno... It’s doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy, though.”

MJ rolled her eyes at his word choice. “A Spider-Man thing?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “I hope not. He took us from the apartment, so if they know who I am...” he shudders. “We need to get out of here.”

MJ smiled at him, sharp and biting in that way that he loved. She was always beautiful, but she was radiant when she looked like this, furious and righteous. “And everyone else of course.”

He grinned, pulling her closer. “Of course. I’d give some monologue about how you and the baby need to get out of here first, but-“

“But you know I’d punch you in the face if you do? Being pregnant does not-“

“Make you helpless, I know. If anything it makes you scarier!”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “Damn right it does. Now, how are we gonna get out of this hellscape?”

They think for a second, examine their surroundings, anxiety swallowing their cheery mood, when the silence is interrupted by a voice from the cell to their left. “Hi, there!”

______

 

**Foggy**

Foggy Nelson was 24 years old. A 2L law student. An upstanding member of society. He gave to charity every Christmas, was a good best friend, and was generally not an asshole. So why had he woken up in a rusty cell?

He had been there for an indeterminate amount of time (it could be several hours or a day or so, he wasn’t sure, especially with the drugs they (his kidnappers, what the hell) had knocked him out with), and underneath all the fear and confusion, Foggy “Kidnappee” Nelson was, at his core, a bit miffed.

And, you know, scared shitless, but Foggy was doing his best to avoid that part of his psyche right now. He had spent the last few hours reciting in his head every supreme court chief justice since Jay. He would normally be able to do this in a few minutes, as there has only been seventeen, but he kept getting distracted by the smell of blood and the distant wails of other prisoners. He was at his third go-round (...Marshall, Taney, Chase...) when a man in the cell to his right reached through the bars to poke him with a whispered “hey!”

Foggy is not ashamed to say he squealed. Humor in the face of adversity has always been his go to, and honestly, self-deprecation provides an endless pool of content. The man smiled, his face dirty. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Joe, by the way.”

Foggy smiled, a careful, friendly thing. “Ah, no worries. I’ve been known to startle easily. Especially after being kidnapped.”

The man tilted his head and gave him a quirked, indulgent smile that people sometimes gave to him when they didn’t really get his humor, but knew he wasn’t really serious. Matt has never, not once, gave him a smile like that, instead giving him sideways half grins and full-body guffaws. Was it bad to wish that his blind (not helpless, but certainly not good in a situation like this) best friend was there with him? He missed Matt, and knew that if he were here, Foggy would be several times more worried, but also have some kind of comfortable familiarity. “Well, um, this is going to sound a bit crazy, a lot crazy, but I’ve been told by the people in the cell next to me that, um, all of us seem to be from different times? I thought it was kind of ludicrous, but then I got to talking to Jerry over there,” he pointed to a man dozing in the corner. “And he said that it was 1967, and I know for a fact it was 2019 when I was taken.”

Okay so clearly he, his cellmate, the people next to them, or all three were insane. That’s fine, Foggy could work with that. “Yeah...” he said, voice betraying his skepticism.

“Look, man, I’m too tired to really have a discussion, I’m missing out on some pills for my heart, so. It’s the truth, or at least I think it is,” Joe said, turning away from him in resignation. They didn’t talk again, and Foggy genuinely thought he must have been crazy or something, if not for the Matt look-alike that showed up a day later. Well, a look-alike that had gained a business suit, snazzy red glasses, and a few years. He was being held by two men on either side of him, and was struggling exceptionally, with an angry look on his face. They threw him in the cell next to Foggy, and he landed in a heap unceremoniously. In a flash, he was on his feet again, reaching for the door, when it closed in his face. He turned with a sour, furious expression, more angry than Foggy had ever seen him. He was scary like this, his chest heaving, nostrils flaring violently.

“Matt!?” Foggy asked, and Matt’s mouth fell open with shock.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post S2 Matt and Law School Foggy have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI, it’s not entirely clear from the show if Matt and Foggy met in undergrad or in law school, as time and some classes would indicate law school, but the dorm situation and the language classes would indicate undergrad. So, for this story, I’ve made it so that they met in undergrad.

**Matt**

Matt was not pleased. He had been on his way home from court when a pair of men attacked him. He had not noticed their presence, as he was honestly too caught up in thought to pay proper attention. He had been thinking about Foggy. The last time he and Foggy had fought, they had agreed to move forward, but this time he was all alone. Foggy, he was sure, was now happy to move forward, so long as ‘forward’ didn’t include Matt. It was Matt’s fault, he knew. He had pushed Foggy away, too wrapped up in the exhilaration Elektra brought with her to really think about his actions, and if he was honest, still reeling from his confrontation with Fisk. He loved Foggy, and if he had to let Foggy go to keep him safe, then he would do it, and maybe find love with Elektra, who at the very least could take care of herself, even when faced with ninjas.

But then Elektra died, and Matt realized how alone he was. Karen had gone, frightened and angry at Matt’s identity revelation, and Foggy hated him. Foggy hated him. Matt loved Foggy, has loved him since college, and Foggy hated him. At least he was safe (God, please let him be safe!).

So when two men walked up behind him and stuck a needle full of sedatives into his neck, Matt had not noticed them until they were right up on him, and it was too late. Stick would have beaten him if he had found out.

Matt woke up from the sedatives as they were dragging him through dirt-floored halls. They were silent, their breathing and heart rate measured and efficient. The dirt turned to stone beneath him, and he caught his breath and did his best to fight back, but the men had iron grips. Soon, Matt felt himself being thrown through the air, landing in a cell, and with just enough thought to take note of the other person in the cell with him, he jumped up, and dived for the doors. They closed on his face, and Matt’s shoulders tensed. He spun around, intent on planning a way out of here, when the other person in his cell whispered out a shocked, “Matt?!”

Matt looked up, unseeing eyes frantically searching the area in front of him. “Foggy?” He asked a little desperately. Foggy couldn’t be here. Matt had stayed away from him for the sole purpose of keeping him safe, keeping him away from danger, away from hazards like kidnapping.

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” Foggy replied, comfortingly, but Matt could tell from the sound of his voice that Foggy was grimacing.

“Are you alright?” Matt could not hear any broken bones or smell any blood (besides that of the lingering stench in the air), but Foggy wasn’t used to this, not like Matt. Foggy’s encounters with danger have been few and far between, at least compared to his, and the ones he has had have been a result of Daredevil.

“Am I alright? Forget me, Matt, are you alright? They attacked you, I can see the bruises!” Admittedly those weren’t from his captors but from a lucky mugger, but he wasn’t going to tell Foggy that.

“I’m fine. Nothing major.”

“Nothing-?!” Foggy exclaimed. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. They took me from the apartment...God, Matt, it was terrifying. How long have I been gone?” There was something about the way Foggy said ‘the apartment,’ about the hint of strawberry shampoo in the air...hadn’t he been using apple? And he seemed happy to see Matt? There was something different, something wrong. “Matt?”

Matt started. “-The apartment...?” Foggy nodded his head, his too long hair brushing back and forth across his shoulders. Matt could hear it, and the inconsistency was driving him insane. Hadn’t Foggy cut his hair once he started HC&B? Matt had felt devastated at the time he had found out. He had walked into Sarah’s, a coffee shop and bakery he and Foggy had often frequented, back when they were working together, and had heard Foggy’s heartbeat. He didn’t think Foggy had seen him, as he had left immediately, but Matt did notice the change in his hair. Foggy had moved on, and Matt was… well not okay, per say, but he was surviving.

“You know, the place we live? Did you hit your head when they attacked you?” he asked, concerned. Matt and Foggy had lived together exactly twice, once in the dorms during undergrad and once in a tiny apartment they could only afford together during law school. They had moved into nicer apartments when they interned with L&Z and were able to afford it.

“Foggy,” Matt said slowly. “We haven’t lived together since law school.”

Foggy froze, then cursed under his breath. “You know, I didn’t originally believe them, because,  
you know, I’m a rational human being, but the guys in the cell to our right-we’re in a cell by the way. There are like, ten cells surrounding a big arena- told me that everyone here is from a different time. But, well you’re here and have already graduated, so…” He said this in a rush, like he was not sure if he should believe the words he was saying.

“And you’re thinking maybe they aren’t wrong.”

“Yep.” An awkward silence, neither of them sure what to say to the other, when Foggy sticks out his hand. “Foggy Nelson. 2L law student and Matt Murdock’s best friend. My hand’s in front of you by the way.”

Matt grinned, full and silly, then took his hand, fumbling just a bit for show. “Matt Murdock, Attorney-at-Law and best friend to Foggy Nelson.” And they shook.

________

 

**Foggy  
**

This was maybe the weirdest thing to ever happen to Foggy. The kidnapping thing, the time travel thing… none of it made sense, but Foggy was glad that at least Matt was there with him.

“So… What’s the future like? Clearly you passed the bar…?” Foggy asked, letting go of Matt’s hand. Future-Matt was, well, beautiful. Matt had always been handsome, Foggy had told him so on the first day they had met, but this Matt? There was something in the sharpness of his face that spoke of hardship and strength, something about the set of his shoulders held whispers of a noble intensity, hiding beneath cotton and sinew. His Matt had talked about becoming defense attorneys, quoted Thurgood Marshall with reverence, but it hadn’t really seemed real to them then, had just seemed like a half-thought of the future. This Matt, though, stood straight and powerful in a cheap suit, round red glasses hiding what Foggy knew to be soft hazel eyes. This Matt would protect the innocent, argue and outwit until who he was protecting was safe from harm.

“I did,” he said chuckling. “No such luck for you, though.”

“Oh, shut up. I bet I got a better score than you.”

Matt laughed outright, throwing his head back in a way that made Foggy grin. “You did, actually. I’m not telling you any more than that. Space-time continuum, et cetera, et cetera.”

Foggy grinned again, patting Matt’s upper arm. “I knew those Doctor Who marathons would pay off!”

“Uh-huh. And I got to spend hours of my life listening to you describe Daleks. Squid in a salt shaker? Really?”

“Well it’s not entirely wrong…?”

Matt opened his mouth to say something when suddenly he froze. Before Foggy could ask what was wrong, a group of muscley, scary looking men walked by carrying a man and a woman that looked to be about Foggy’s age. They were thrown into the empty cell next to Foggy and Matt’s, making Foggy gasp and Matt tense.

The group of men walked quickly away, some giving Foggy and Matt steely glares, before disappearing into the shadowed, curving hallway.

“They’ll probably think we’re crazy,” said Foggy once he was sure the men were out of hearing range. “But we should tell them about the whole time travel thing, keep it going around. At the very least it will let people know what’s going on.”

“Yeah,” said Matt in agreement, and so they started their wait for the others to awaken.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had. Jack gets annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so as you might have notices this work looks a bit different! I didn't like the chapter lengths (I thought they were too short) so I combined a couple of the chapters to condense the story a bit. The actual content has not changed, save for some minor grammar edits.
> 
> Anyway, I am so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Life got really busy (I graduated from high school, yay!) so it took me a little bit longer than I'd like. This chapter is essentially the end of the exposition, so expect more action from here on out! 
> 
> Love, YellowRosesAndDragons :)

**Peter**

 

“Hi, there!” a voice to Peter’s left says, startling him and MJ. Peter did not know what to expect from this hellhole, but whatever it was, he definitely didn’t expect Foggy Nelson. The man looked different from the last time Peter saw him; it was almost as if there was something more youthful in his countenance, and his hair had changed. Peter had met with him about two weeks ago, and his hair was as short as ever.

“Mr. Nelson?” Peter asked.

 The man looked caught off guard for a moment, before regaining his friendly demeanor. “Do I know you?” 

“Um, yeah? I mean I’ve known you since I was sixteen and you’re my lawyer? We talked like two weeks ago.”

Foggy stared at Peter for a second. “Time travel, yeah. So the thing is, it seems like all of us are from different time. Like it’s 2010 for me, but clearly not for you, so. Um. For Matt, it’s…” 

He gestured to the man sitting on the small cot with his head in his hands. “2015.” 

Peter grinned, realizing who he was referring to. “Oh, DD’s here? He-” 

Matt shot up at the mention of his alter ego, clearly startled. “You know me?” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah… clearly you haven’t met me yet. Foggy doesn’t know the origin behind your nickname yet?” 

Matt shook his head, catching on. “No, not this version of him,” he replied. Foggy’s head turned to look at them both rapidly. 

“Nickname?” Foggy asked. 

“Yeah, it’s an inside joke. You know, I have a nickname of my own?” Peter said, keeping his voice light and hoping desperately that Matt understood what he was implying. “Some people call me Spidey.” 

Matt breathed in sharply. 

“Interesting choice…” Foggy said. 

“Well, it’s no ‘Foggy,’ but it’s something,” Peter joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Oh my God, please ignore my socially inept boyfriend,” MJ said, sticking her hand through the bars and shaking Foggy’s. “I’m Michelle. We are a little bit ahead of Matt, time-wise, just for the record. If it’s 2010 for you, that means you’re still in law school, right?”

“Yep!”

“Great! So, at your recommendation, actually, I’m actually a 3L at Columbia,” Michelle said, nudging Peter in the ribs.

“Man, does Professor Gregorham still teach? I have her class next semester and I hear it’s brutal…”

“Well, it’s not so bad if you study all the extra reading she recommends before class. Most don’t and are confused when she talks about the material in class.” Michelle moved to sit on cot, and Foggy mimicked her in his own cell.

“Yeah, well I read some of the work…”

As Foggy and Michelle began discussing the particulars of their law school experiences, Matt pulled Peter aside, and in hurried whispered tones, asked, “Spider-Man? Last time I checked, you were a skinny twelve-year-old who helped old ladies cross the street.”

Peter snorted. “Last time I checked, you weren’t so damn moody. When is this for you?”

“I told you, 2015-”

“No, no. Um, red or black suit?”

“Red, wh-”

“Does Mr. Nelson have long hair? And does “Midland Circle” mean anything to you?” Peter asked, interrupting again.

“No, and No? What does this have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to figure out what time-frame you’re from. And unfortunately, I can’t remember dates like MJ can, and she doesn’t know the details of your life, so…” He shrugged. “At least this explains why you are so grumpy. At least, more than normal.”

DD lips pursed, a sure-fire sign that he was glaring at Peter from behind his glasses. “How do you know so much about me, anyway?”

“You were something of a mentor to me for a while. And, you know, after a couple months you felt more comfortable telling me about your life. We still keep up but I’m kind of going at the whole ‘hero’ thing on a larger, more world-saving scale. Out of necessity. Honestly I miss the city.”

Matt nodded. “Makes sense, a little.”

So what’s the plan?” Peter asked after a moment of quiet. “I have nothing.”

“Right now,” Matt responded. “I don’t know where we are, and my senses aren’t getting anything strong enough to tell us about how to fight whoever captured us or what their plans are, so... just sit and wait, I guess.”

\--------

 

**Jack**

 

“This may be less of a coincidence than we thought,” Nelson said, his eyebrows pinched in thoughtful concern.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“Well, for one, I actually know Peter here,” he said, gesturing to the young boy. “He’s a client and friend of mine. Or, at least, he will be when he’s older. He’s a sweet kid,” Nelson acknowledged, nodding to Ben.

Jack considered this. “So everyone here is connected to you?” Suspicious.

Nelson shook his head. “No, I highly doubt that. More likely to Matt, or Peter. Or, Hell, one of the guys they used to run with. Well, Peter still does, I guess.” He seemed to be talking more to himself with every word, more thinking out loud than initiating conversation. He put his head in his hands, and suddenly seemed to Jack to have aged significantly through the course of a single conversation. “God, I am too old for this.

“Why-” Ben interjected, hesitating. “Why wouldn’t it be you? Why is it more likely to be Petey or any of those other folk you were talking about?”

Nelson pulled his head out of his hands and looked Ben straight in the eye. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you why, but strange things happen around your children when they are older. You think The Incident was bad? Let me tell you, that was only the beginning. And your nephew and your son,” he said, nodding to each of them respectively, “will be in the middle of it.”

There was a heavy pause, before Jack outbursts, “Now what the hell kind of bullshit is that? That is the most ambiguous answer I have heard in my entire damn life. What do you mean by ‘in the middle of it?’”

Nelson shook his head. No matter how much Ben and Jack pressed, the man refused to tell them anymore than what he already did. He was a sneaky asshole, though, and frequently managed to change the subject without their notice, and before long they would be on a completely new topic. When Jack finally caught on to what the other man was doing, he asked direct questions only, to which he received conflicting, confusing, and even outright ridiculous answers. At one point, Nelson had Jack convinced that his son moonlit as a male stripper, and was in so many dangerous situations because he was dating the owner, a fella named Willie, who was also a mobster.

Ben was in tears once he had understood what Nelson was doing, having long given up his pursuit of knowledge. Peter wanted to know what ‘stripper’ meant. Jack wanted to punch a wall. All in all, Nelson had suitably distracted them and happily made a piping hot mess of the whole situation, and while Jack was understandably frustrated, he could at least admit that the man must be an excellent lawyer with an excellent sense of humor.

So Jack finally gave in (for now), and the two cells were silent except for the “vroom vroom” sounds Peter was making as he played. “Hey,” Nelson said after a moment, grinning mischievously. “Want to hear a story about Matt in undergrad?”

Jack smiled, nodding. He wanted to know more about the man his son would become, for one, and for two, the look on Foggy’s face promised something horrifically embarrassing. And that was the kind of shit that Jack lived on. “One December day, all the way back in our baby days…”

And before Jack knew it, Nelson had become Foggy, and he was relaxing enough to fall asleep, despite the horror of the situation and the concrete that made his ass hurt if he sat on it for too long.

\----

 

And then the alarms began.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the alarms go off, from the perspective of our favorite badass women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week????? Whattt??????? Hope y'all enjoy!!! :D

**May**

 

Matt was asleep and curled up next to her, the twelve-year-old’s face covered with dry tear tracks. He had fallen asleep a few hours ago, collapsing into a fitful rest while May lightly pet his hair and attempted to soothe him. The old man, who Matt had eventually told her was named Stick ( _ Stick _ ? Really?) sat petulantly in the corner, having somehow sensed that May was getting completely fed up with his snarky comments. He had been lightly dozing on and off throughout their imprisonment, but had never quite managed to fall completely asleep. 

 

The people to the left of their cell had, a few hours ago, said that everyone here seemed to be from different time periods, and while at first May didn’t believe them, she began to after Matt had mentioned that he thought it was the nineties. And since he had not shown other signs of being delusional (and since May’s world had became a whole lot stranger in the past few years), May believed them. It was weird, but May was working through it. Matt and Stick seemed to take the man at his word, though, which was odd, but May wasn’t quick to judge. They seemed a little odd anyway, so perhaps this kind of thing was more normal for them than it was for her. 

 

Despite knowing about the supposed time travel, May was still quite unsure why they were all there or what their kidnappers wanted (though she hoped to God that it didn’t have anything to do with her nephew), and she was certainly not prepared for their cell to be filled with a flashing red light and ear-splitting alarms.

 

Matt jumped awake, hands covering his ears immediately, his expression one of horrible pain. Stick had also risen, and, after spinning the boy around and gripping his forearms, began yelling at him to “Get it together and pick something else to focus on.”

 

“Hey, stop! You’re hurting him!” May yelled, pushing Stick away from the twelve-year-old she had grown attached to. 

 

Stick growled at her. “Look lady, you don’t understand. He knows how to avoid the pain, he just needs to be reminded. Matty!” He yelled. “Mind controls the body. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

 

And to May’s surprise, he did. Despite the lights and the horribly loud screech of the alarm, Matt expression went from extreme pain and shock to impassiveness. It was more than a little bit horrible that he knew how to do that, but at the very least, was helpful in a situation like this. May pursed her lips, and pulled the child into her arms. Matt’s expression did not change, but the tension in his muscles eased slightly.

 

“What’s happening?” May asked Stick. She did not like the man, loathed him even, but she could admit that he seemed to know what to do in a situation like this. 

 

“They are releasing the people on the other side of the stadium. Working their way around… They’re dragging them into the stadium. Matty, don’t fight back for now. We don’t have the resources, and frankly I don’t want to die over your stupidity in battle. You aren’t ready for this yet.”

 

May was shocked. “In battle? He’s not ready for what? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Stick sneered, shaking his head. “Just shut up when they get here. Don’t provoke them. There are a lot of them, and they’ll kill you if you push them too far.”

 

There was a silence for a moment, where May tried her best to ignore the sounds of groaning, crying, and general misery. She pulled Matt closer to her, and he buried his head in her side. She was afraid for him. He reminded her too much of Peter’s behavior the past few months, reckless and self-sacrificial. 

 

She watched as the cells emptied, unable to see anything but the general shapes of their captors and the other prisoners as they were walked, prodded, and dragged down the long circular hallway to the arena. The prisoners three cells down were released, then two, then their neighbors, and before long, three men stood outside her cell, keys in hand. “We’ll walk,” she said, Matt’s smaller, pubescent hand in her own. She did her best to shield him with her body, protecting him from the view of the captors. Stick raised his hands in the air, and walked behind her, expressionless. 

 

“No talking,” the men said at the same time, and with the same intonation. They were tall and muscular, a given, but that was not what was scariest about them, at least to May. No, they were terrifying in that it was difficult to distinguish one of them from the other. They had different features, slightly, but any individualism they might have had was completely diminished by their overwhelming similarities. All of them had brown hair and flat eyes, and their expressions were so placid it seemed as though the men held no life within them. 

 

May gulped and nodded, squeezing Matt’s hand. They led them through a low lit hallway and down a set of dim, rust colored stairs that was previously hidden to May. Matt was surprisingly adept at navigating the area, and May was glad that she did not have to lead him. She wouldn’t have minded, of course, but she did not want to bring any attention to the child. 

 

Finally, they landed at the arena, where they were told to kneel. There was already what looked to be about thirty people lined up in indistinguishable rows, heads bowed. May, Matt, and Stick joined them, the bright red lights and screeching alarms surrounding them still.

 

\-------

 

**Michelle**

Michelle’s knees hurt. Her swollen belly brushed the dirty ground where she kneeled, and she tried not to be repulsed. At twenty-five, a child is not exactly what she had wanted for herself, but once she and Peter had decided to keep the baby, she became more enamored with the idea. She hadn’t wanted to be the kind of woman whose life solely determined by her status as a mother, and her work as an activist and as a future attorney was monumentally important to her. So, the pregnancy, sudden and unexpected as it was, had seemed less of a good thing and more of a death sentence for the life she had wanted.

 

She had been all set to give the baby up (and Peter, ever the wonderful boyfriend, had supported her in whatever choice she made), but then… Well. There was another invasion, a small one this time, but one nonetheless, and MJ had been at the middle of it. Peter was on another continent, meeting with King T’Challa to discuss a new Avengers Initiative for young potentials, and MJ was all by herself. In an Alien Invasion. Pregnant. She had not been in a life-or-death situation before, at least not like that, and as she was desperately hiding from a reptilian soldier with a gun, something clicked in her head. She wanted to live, not only for herself, but for the child inside of her.

 

Peter had been ecstatic. His family, with the exception of Aunt May (who was not blood related) had all died, and he had wanted to hold onto any part of it he had, so long as it didn’t come at the expense of her bodily autonomy and life choices. He was a badass feminist like that. Now, though she entirely supported the choices of other women who had decided and will decide to get abortions, was going to have a baby. 

 

At least, so long as she got out of here alive. Peter was next to her, his breathing slow and steady. He nudged her ankle slightly with his own in an attemp t to comfort her, and while she appreciated the effort, it didn’t really help. Matt, to the confusion of his future law partner, had quickly whispered that there were too many of them to effectively fight against, and so the best plan of action was to wait and see what they were going to do. She did not like this plan, and had told him so, but he had ignored her. 

 

Any more of this, she decided, and she’d do something, no matter how many of them there were or how pregnant she was. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit short, but I think that it moves along the plot quite well. Enjoy :)

**Foggy**

Ugh. He was more than a little but sick of getting kidnapped or shot at or whatever the hell. And this time, it probably wasn’t even Matt’s fault. Probably. Either way, it didn’t matter, because here he was, squished in between some unnamed woman and Jack Murdock (!!!) his knees angrily complaining every second that passed. He was getting fucking old, dammit. 

There were probably thirty or forty of them, all squished together in neat little rows. The room was silent. Foggy’s hands ached from where they were folded on the back of his head. “Welcome, everyone!” A deep, throaty voice boomed from the front of the arena, where Foggy and the other prisoners were marched down a set of stairs. “Thank you for waiting so patiently from your rooms while we… collected the rest of you.” Foggy couldn’t see the speaker, and dared not move, but he could see, peripherally at least, guards standing at attention around the group of prisoners. 

“You may have noticed that the time from which you originate differs, or that you are all from New York,” the man said with an almost indifferent tone. “You may be wondering what it is that you are doing here. Why it is that we collected you from different times.” He paused, and Foggy imagined him leaning forward carefully. “Congradul-”

“HEY!” A young woman’s voice yelled, a few rows away from Foggy. Her voice was strangely familiar. “YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE US FROM OUR HOMES!! I DEMAND TO BE TAKEN BACK!! I-”

“Ma’am,” the man said. “I would highly recommend you calm down.” His voice shook on the word ‘highly’ the only indication of emotion other than sheer politeness that Foggy had heard thus far. 

“NO!! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! WE HAVE RIGHTS! I WANT-”

Her voice was cut off suddenly by the sound of a gunshot, followed quickly by a thud. Someone else, male, began to sob. Foggy’s breath was caught in his throat, fear tightening around his lungs. “Well. Now that that’s been dealt with…” the man from earlier paused. “Congratulations! You have been chosen to participate in a once in a lifetime social experiment! In order to make sure that no bias has occurred, you have all been randomly selected from the city at different time periods. You have all, or rather almost all, passed the first stage.” 

What the hell? This was certainly different from the other dangerous situations Foggy has been in. This was some Avengers level shit. “Your next task is to remain exactly where you are. Do not move from this spot or the position you have been put in. Do not speak to anyone else. Do not try to communicate in any way. The next stage will begin soon.” Foggy heard footsteps, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. The group stayed where they were, silent, for thirty minutes, and Foggy tried to ignore the cloying scent of copper in the air, and the soft masculine sobs that accompanied it.

\----------

**Jack**

Jack was horrified. That girl was dead! What was happening? How was he supposed to cope with that? Jack had been in plenty of fights in his day. It was his livelihood, and while the scent of blood no longer bothered him because of it, the sickly thud the girl made as she fell was horrific. She couldn’t have been very old, by the sound of her voice.

Nelson was tense next to him, and little Peter was shaking on his other side. After about thirty minutes, the men that had brought them to the arena took them out of it. Instead of back to their cells, as Jack had originally thought, the men brought them to a large circular room. Everyone, all thirty of them, were shoved into it, and while it wasn’t incredibly crowded, it was not exactly roomy either. There was a small restroom off to the side, partially hidden by a flimsy curtain, a set of speakers on the ceiling, and seemingly nothing else. The lights in the ceiling were industrial and bright, a stark contrast to the dim cells from before. 

Once everyone was in the room, the guards from earlier left out of the large door they had all been shoved through. The door slammed behind them, followed by a sharp click of a lock. “Welcome to stage two,” the man’s voice from the arena said, echoing around them. You will now be allowed to converse, but do not try to escape the room. Any subject that attempts to do so will be removed. Further instructions will be given at a later time. Thank you.” 

There was a moment of silent relief from all of the prisoners, then sounds of chatter began to start up. “So what do we do now?” Ben asked. 

Jack shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know. This isn’t something that happens to me frequently, you know.”

Foggy sighed. “I would like to agree with you, but unfortunately… This is not exactly the first time I’ve been kidnapped. Or shot. Or put in danger. This is without a doubt the weirdest, but certainly not the first.”

Jack looked at him, agast. “Why? How?”

Foggy sighed, again. “I really, really wish I could tell you, but even I don’t know. Anyway, the first thing we should do is get organized.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in the room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! I'm so sorry about the chapter taking so long. I just moved into my first year at college, so there was a bit of an adjustment period, as well as the time it took to get everything packed and together. Please enjoy the chapter!! :)

**Matt**

 

Guilt was going through Matt’s mind in a truly impressive way, even for him. That girl got shot, and Matt didn’t do anything to help her. It was his plan to do nothing, to wait, and now that girl is dead, and he can hear her (boyfriend? Husband?) sobbing in a corner of the large room. Logically, he could work out that it wasn’t necessarily his fault, that he couldn’t have known she would have rebelled, but maybe if he’d been smarter, or stronger, or less concerned about is  _ damned _ secret, the girl might be alive. Fuck. 

 

Peter had his armed curved around his girlfriend, a desperate protective thing, and Matt, well Matt could sympathize. Foggy may hate him now (and  _ God _ does that hurt), but Matt couldn’t help but try and protect him, if from a distance now. The slightly adorable, completely and utterly young Foggy Nelson beside him was shaking, his heart pounding a steady rhythm of fear. Matt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing lightly. This Foggy, at least, he could protect up close.

 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks gently.

 

Foggy tensed slightly. “Not really,” he said, his voice watery with tears. 

 

Matt let out a choked off laugh at that. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. I- yeah. It’s- it’s going to be okay, though. I’ll keep you safe.”

 

Foggy was quiet, and Matt could just imagine the pitying smile on his face. “Yeah, buddy. You’ll keep us safe.” Foggy leaned into Matt’s touch, then, just a little, and the smell and feel of Foggy overwhelmed all of Matt’s other senses for just a second. The crying was gone, as was the smell of urine and fear. All that was left was strawberry shampoo and soft warmth. 

 

\-----------

 

**Foggy**

 

So this was not working for Foggy. He appreciated the effort, really. The fear tactics, the time travel, the damp and bloody atmosphere, it was all well and good, and made for a perfectly interesting kidnapping, but when someone gets hurt? When a young woman dies for standing up? Well, that’s when Foggy Nelson gets angry. 

 

He didn’t always used to feel like this, so connected to the fate of others. He always had a wealth of empathy, but that only extended so far past his own self preservation. But something had happened over the last few years, starting around when he discovered Matt’s counterpart, wherein Foggy felt a deep and abounding sense of protection for others, especially those who couldn’t help themselves. Foggy hadn’t been unsympathetic, as a youth (or else he would have never agreed to Matt’s ideas about what their law firm should look like), but there was something humbling (and incredibly frustrating) in knowing that the man you loved was risking his life for people he didn’t know. With as long as Foggy and Matt had been together (and  _ together _ ), it would be difficult for something so vital to who Matt is to not rub off on Foggy in a significant way. 

 

So yeah. He was pissed. “What do you mean, get organized?” Matt’s father asked.

 

Foggy let loose a breath. “Nothing good is going to happen so long as we are fragmented, as we are right now. Obviously we can’t attempt an escape, you heard the voice, but we can at least work to form a coherent group. It should make it harder for us to be hurt as individuals.” Jack and Ben, who had been listening silently, nodded.

 

“We need to address the group, get everyone listening. Make sure they know that safety is the main priority for now, and that no one should, at this point, attempt an escape.”

 

Jack frowned. “So we aren’t going to fight back? We’re just going to allow those assholes to walk all over us?”

 

“No. Not at all. But you saw what happened to that girl.” 

 

Jack nodded. “That makes sense.”

 

“Is, um, is there something I can do to help?” Ben asked, surprising Foggy as he had been quiet up until that point. 

 

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head and smiling. “Your nephew is so much like you. I don’t think so right now, but if I do, I’ll let you know.”

 

“How are you going to get everyone’s attention?” Jack asked, curiosity shown plainly on his face.

 

Foggy smiled. “Like this. EXCUSE ME? CAN I GET EVERYONE’S ATTENTION PLEASE?” Having many (many, many) younger cousins had taught Foggy the best way of shouting without seeming aggressive. Especially since the younger ones burst into tears the moment they think that you’re mad at them. 

 

People began to gather around, curious and a little bit wary. He smiled, making sure to speak in a reasonable and calm voice the Karen called his ‘I’m totally harmless, look see’ voice. “Hello everyone. My name is Foggy Nelson. I’m an attorney from Hell’s Kitchen, some of you may know me, some may not. I just wanted to get everybody together and talk for a bit.” 

 

He paused, taking a breath. “I know this is scary, believe me I know, but we need to try to avoid panic the best we can. We are more vulnerable when we aren’t united, and the more we stick together on this, the higher our chances of survival.”

 

“Chances of survival?!” A voice interrupted. “My wife is dead! There is nothing left for us, just a psychopath who wants to kill us off one by one!” A young man, presumably the husband of the woman who was previously murdered, elbowed his way to the front of the group, shaking with anger and grief.

 

“It’s horrible, isn’t it? That gnawing feeling inside of you that says that the one person who was meant to be there forever is gone?” Foggy stepped closer to him, a pained and understanding look on his face. “You want to give into it right now. I know, God, I know. But you can’t give into that right now. She wouldn’t want that, would she? I didn’t know her, but even I could tell she was a fighter. I think she’d want you to fight too.”

 

The kid let out a wet sob and nodded, covering his mouth, and Foggy put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re right. You’re right.” He laughed a little. “She’d kick my ass right now. For crying, and for giving up.”

 

Foggy smiled. “I get that. You can get through this. We can get through this.” He scanned the group, making eye contact with everyone. When he saw a pair of red glasses, his heart almost stopped in his chest, but he kept talking. “For now, don’t try to escape. We don’t have any power at the moment, and I don’t think trying anything, for now, would be wise. If you need anything, or want to cry on someone’s shoulder, I am always at your disposal.” People nodded, giving him looks of respect as they gathered back into their groups.

 

“Thanks,” the younger man mumbled before shuffling away. 

 

“That was great, man,” Ben said, Jack nodding along with him.

 

Foggy smiled. “Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’ll be right back,” he said before rushing through the stragglers to the pair of men waiting for him. 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I got a new chapter for you. Some notes about characterization. I think that of Matt and Foggy, Foggy is the one that is more likely to lead, while Matt is more likely to go off on his own and do his own thing. I also think that a lot of Foggy's deeply held morals come from Matt, where without him he would be sympathetic, but overall a bit more indifferent. Matt causes him to take action in a way that he probably wouldn't without him. I also think that Foggy provides Matt with the kind of love and affection that Matt needs but would not seek out on his own. 
> 
> Just some thoughts:)

**Matt**

 

When the other Foggy started talking, he froze. He should have already known that there was another one wandering around, but he had closed off his senses to try and preserve some privacy, and in doing so, missed his voice. His heartbeat, normally something that Matt would have noticed from streets away, was overwhelmed by the younger Foggy’s own thump-thump rhythm. 

 

Matt tried to listen to what he was saying (and he did, mostly), but his senses were caught onto one thing in particular. This Foggy had short hair. This Foggy was older. This Foggy, if he was anything like the one from Matt’s time, hated him. “Matt...that’s me!” Foggy, the younger, noticed astonished. Matt nodded miserably. 

 

“If you need anything, or want to cry on someone’s shoulder, I am always at your disposal,” the elder Foggy said ending his speech. Please God, don’t let him notice me, Matt thought, terrified of losing the little bit of comfort he had found with Foggy’s younger counterpart. If they talked, he reasoned, the younger Foggy will hate me.

 

“Oh, man, he’s coming this way! What do I say to him? He’s like old, dude. Like older than you by like a lot.”

 

“Ouch. You’ve wounded me, kid.” Matt tensed. He was here.

 

“Kid? Whatever you say, old man.” The elder Foggy Nelson let out a snort of laughter at that, one that Matt was more than a little familiar with. 

 

“Fair. Hey, is that Peter and Michelle?” Foggy nodded, while Matt stayed silent. “Would you mind terribly bringing them to that gentleman over there? With the little boy? Peter will want to speak with him, and will definitely need some emotional support. We’re pretty good at that, so.”

 

The younger Foggy turned presumably turning to Matt. “I-”

 

“I also,” Foggy said, a little quieter, “would like to talk to Matt alone for a sec.”

 

“I- Okay. Will you be alright,” he asked Matt. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Matt lied. Foggy’s younger counterpart nodded (Matt could hear the tell tale swish of hair), and walked off. 

 

There was a moment of silence before Foggy sighed. “What year?”

 

“2016.”

 

“After the Punisher case?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Aw, Matty, I’m sorry. You must be going through some capital E emotions right now.”

 

Matt paused. “What?” He asked hoarsely. This was not what he was expecting. “I-I thought you hated me.”

 

“Matty,” he said, stepping closer, his hand on Matt’s bicep. “I could  _ never _ hate you. Right now, the Foggy of your time is miserable. He could never hate you either, no matter what you do.”

 

Matt let out a small sob, overcome with emotion. Foggy pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around Matt’s shoulders while he cried. “Shh, honey. When was the last time you talked to someone for something other than work, huh? Or got a hug?”

 

Matt released a short breath. “It’s, um. Been a minute. It’s not like...I’m fine.”

 

“Hah. Sure you are, Matt. But people need others to function, and with real, extended affection.” Foggy pulled him in tighter, whispering in his ear. “Even Daredevil needs friends, Buddy.” Foggy let go of him then, and Matt felt at once both emptier and lighter. He scrubbed the tears off of his face the best he could, embarrassed. 

 

Once he was properly cleaned, he searched for a subject to lighten the mood a little. “So, was than a wedding ring I felt on your hand, Foggy?” He asked, a sly grin brightening his face, all signs of angst seemingly gone.

 

“Yep!”

 

Matt bursted out in laughter, even as he felt a pang of jealousy for whoever had the pleasure of marrying Foggy Nelson. “Oooh...Is she pretty?”

 

Foggy shook his head. Matt was sure he was grinning widely. “Nope, that’s all the information you are getting out of me, Buddy.”

 

“Aw, are you sure?”

 

“Yes, very.”

 

“Damn, okay.” A pause. “So you are old now, then?”

 

“Fuck, I take it back. We can’t be friends.”

 

“Uh, huh. I can hear your heart you know. I can tell when you’re lying.” Matt said, laughing, glad that there was hope for the relationship with his own Foggy. 

 

\-------

 

**Peter**

 

Peter was squeezing MJ with as much of his strength as he could without hurting her. He was terrified that if he looked away for even a second, she’d disappear. He buried his face in her curly hair, breathing in the scent of cedar and lemon that was distinctly MJ. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” she said, but Peter noticed she was squeezing him just as tightly. His hand was placed protectively over his stomach, as though the mere presence of his fingers would be enough to keep his kid safe from harm if something were to happen.

 

He was just contemplating what the consequences would be if he were to just never let MJ go when Foggy Nelson’s weird younger counterpart walked up. “Are you guys all right?”

 

“A bit shaken up, but okay,” MJ replied.

 

“That’s good. I just met who I’m going to be in thirty years, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah. He’s probably about our Mr. Nelson’s age.”

 

Foggy’s face did a complicated expression. “Yeah, well. I- Maybe you should talk to him then. He basically just sent me off, so.”

 

Peter looked at MJ. Maybe Mr. Nelson was from a similar time to Peter and MJ. Maybe they could share information or something, try to figure out a plan to get out of here. “No, Peter,” MJ said, already realizing what he was about to suggest. “Look.”

 

Mr. Nelson and Matt were talking quietly, and even Peter, who was not particularly skilled in reading people, could tell that it was an important, intimate conversation. Matt looked like he was standing in front of a firing squad, waiting for the shots that would kill him. “I… yeah, maybe we should leave them alone for now.”

 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Foggy agreed. “Anyway, other me wanted me to take you to meet some other man.” Well, that’s weird. Maybe there was another hero here? 

 

Foggy led them to near where Mr. Nelson had given his short speech. “Who are we supposed to…” Peter stopped dead. There, standing in front of him, playing with a kid that looked suspiciously like Peter himself, was his Uncle. 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations are had...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. I hate to post this so soon, but I'm honestly just so excited to share this that I couldn't wait. Thanks for reading loves.

**May**

 

Matt was shivering against her side, tiny arms clutching the curve of her waist with all the strength a twelve-year-old boy could muster. She didn’t mind, used to the slightly suffocating hugs her teenage nephew bestowed on her with a level of frequency that’s a bit unusual for his age, if incredibly endearing. Like the rest of him. God, she missed Peter. 

 

“It’s alright, honey,” she said, dragging her fingers through Matt’s red-brown hair.

 

“I- I could hear-” He shivered, tensing.

 

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Stick stood near them, sneering menacingly. He had for some reason decided to stick (hah. Stick. She was so tired) with them, despite her telling him to “shut up and leave Matt alone” about once every half hour. “You need to grow up, kid. People fucking die. It’s what they do. Grow up and get used to it. That girl will not be the first.” Having said his piece, Stick took a step back, a gross, smug look on his face. 

 

Suddenly, Matt tensed all over. “I...could we go over to where that guy was talking, earlier?”

 

Stick’s words must have really hurt him. If he was hoping to get away from his awful ‘mentor,’ then May certainly wasn’t going to get in the way of it. “Sure, honey.” She led him by the arm, the way she had been trained to help visually impaired patients, toward the front of the room. “Is this better, Matt? It looks like Branch didn’t follow us so if-”

 

“-Dad?” Matt asked, his expression, despite being being partially hidden by his glasses, clearly reading as hopeful. 

 

May looked around. There were several men who he might be referring to, but without knowing what caught Matt’s attention, there was no way for her to help. There was a chance, she supposed for his dead father to be here, with the time travel and all, but it seemed very unlikely. “Matt, honey, are you sure-”

 

“Matty?!” 

 

Matt looked like he was about to cry. “Y-yeah! Where…?”

 

May looked around frantically. Then, a voice to her right said, “Right here,” and Matt let go of her forearm and ran to a tall man with dark hair and heavy eyes. “It’s me, Matty. I’m here.”

 

He looked up. “Thank you so much. I’m Jack Murdock.” His eyes turned back to the boy clinging to him. “Look at you! You are so old!”

May smiled. It was so nice that Matt could see his dad again. “I’m Ma-”

 

“May?!” In much the same manner that Jack had called out his son’s name, Ben Parker called out hers. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t think about the possibility of him being here, alive, but she didn’t think it would actually happen. “Ben?”

 

Suddenly Ben was holding her, strong arms wrapped around her as they hadn’t for years. “How-?” 

 

“Time travel, love.”

 

They stood there for what felt like years, clinging to each other like the world itself would let go if they let go. Ben was pressing gentle kisses into her hair, and May felt tears gather in her eyes. She knew he had to be at least a little bit confused, as in his perspective it had likely only been days since they had last seen each other, but he had also always known what she needed without her having to verbalize it. God, she had missed him. 

 

“When are you from, love?” Ben asked.

 

“October 2017. What about you?”

 

“Well me and Peter-”

 

“Peter’s here?!”

 

“Yes, love. Hey Pete!” Peter came dashing up behind her hugging her legs. He couldn’t have been more than eleven, God. “I was playing over there and then you were here and I didn’t even know May! When did you get here? Are you okay? I’ve been keeping Ben company. Are you from the future or the past? If you are from the future has the Avengers defeated some more aliens? Did Iron Man make some more suits?” What do they look like? May!” He said, indignant that May was laughing at all of his questions. 

 

May and Ben stood there laughing for some time when a voice that was even more familiar to May let out a quiet whisper behind her. “Ben? May?”

 

She and Ben stopped laughing abruptly, looking behind them. Standing with his arm wrapped around a very (very) pregnant Michelle Jones, was her nephew. He was older than in her time, maybe about ten years older than her own nephew, but still very recognizably Peter. He was a bit taller, a bit sharper, and all-together more muscular than the fifteen-year-old in her time. His large brown eyes, unchanged all these years, were looking at Ben with a kind of reverence that she understood deeply. Ben was looking back at him with a similar expression.

 

May smiled. “Hi, honey.”

\-----

 

**Jack**

 

The second his son was in his arms, Jack grabbed him and bolted to the nearest corner. May, as Ben called her was currently busy hanging onto her (presumably husband) and was clearly busy, so Jack took his kid and ran. The corners were the safest spot to be, and Jack would be damned if he wasn’t going to put everything he had into making sure that Matt got out of this alive. Him being here  _ changes _ things.

 

“Dad!” Matt said, tears in his eyes. 

 

“I know kid. Everything about this sucks, but I’m going to keep you safe. I swear.”Jack rubbed the middle of Matt’s back like he liked when he was small. “How old are you now, huh? It’s weird to ask that, but. Yeah.”

 

“I’m twelve,” Matt said, stepping back and wiping his eyes, expression like he was daring Jack to make something of him crying.

 

“Really?” Jack said. “I thought for sure that you were, like, thirty or something.”

 

Matt gave him a look that was pure pre-teen. “Sure, Dad.”

 

Jack shook his head, amazed at the differences that three years could make. “When did you grow up, huh?”

 

Matty shrugged, and Jack pulled him back in again in a hug, just glad to be near his boy, even in the circumstances.

 

They stood like that for a while, when suddenly a voice came out of nowhere. “So. I leave you alone for two seconds, let you explore, and you turn into a wuss, huh?”

 

Jack looked up to see an elderly blind man with a sneer on his face. “Hey, I haven’t done anything to make you talk to me like-”

 

“-You just go and find your daddy, cry like a baby over a little bit of blood,” The man interrupted. “I expected more from you, Matty.”

 

Jack saw red, and pulled Matt behind him. Surely this man wouldn’t be so… moronic as to insult Battlin’ Jack’s son in front of him? But no, the sneer on the man’s face was clearly directed toward Matt. Fine then.

 

“What? You ain’t going to talk to your sensei? You’re just going to be a pus-”

 

Jack punched him. In the mouth. Noone fucking talks about his son like that and gets away with it. And okay, yes he was blind. Perhaps not his finest moment.

 

“Hah! I see where you get it now, Matty? What do you think, should I give Battlin’ Jack a go?”

 

Matty tensed at that and strangely got in front of Jack as if to protect him. “Oh, so now I’ve got your attention. Good. You are growing weak, Mathew. Allowing connections,” he spat the word while waving his hand grandly, “to get in the way of your training. I’m disappointed in you.” Matt flinched, but held his ground, legs spread apart and body tensed, as though ready for a fight. Jack did not know where this was going, and didn’t like it one bit. 

 

“Matt, get behind me.”

 

“Yeah Matty. Go hide behind your daddy. Or…” he said, pulling the word our tauntingly. “You could fight me like the warrior you are.” 

 

A conflicted expression came across Matt’s face. Jack tensed, and pulled Matt behind him. Something tense was in the air and then a voice came out of nowhere. Jack was getting tired of that. 

 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” A handsome man of average height stood directly behind the old man, causing him to turn slightly in his direction. The man had blood red sunglasses on and a dirty suit. Nelson stood behind him, a grim (and yet somehow smug) look on his face. “I don’t think we would want any more trouble than we already have on our hands. Right, Stick?”

  
The man who must have been named Stick (and what the fuck was up with that?) smirked. “I was  _ wondering _ when you would show up, Matty.” And he pounced.


End file.
